The Diamond Throne

you.’
    ‘You’re very naïve then, Elius. Lately, a fair number of travellers from the northern kingdoms have been circulating rumours here in Cippria that there’s a groundswell of sympathy for Rendorish aims in those kingdoms. Is Martel in any way connected with that campaign?’
    Elius stared at him, his lips pressed fearfully shut.
    Slowly, Kurik began to bend his thumb back.
    ‘Yes! Yes!’ Elius squeaked, arching back in pain.
    ‘You were almost backsliding there, Elius,’ Sparhawk chided. ‘I’d watch that if I were you. The whole purpose of Martel’s campaign here is to persuade the city dwellers of Rendor to join with the desert nomads in an Eshandist uprising against the Church. Am I right?’
    ‘Martel doesn’t confide in me all that much, but I suppose that’s his ultimate goal, yes.’
    ‘And he’s supplying weapons, right?’
    ‘I’ve heard that he is.’
    ‘This next one is tricky, Elius, so listen carefully. The real point here is to stir things up so that the Church Knights will have to come here and quiet them down again. Isn’t that so?’
    Elius nodded sullenly ‘Martel himself hasn’t said so, but my cousin intimated as much to me in his last letter.’
    ‘And the uprising is to be timed to coincide with the election of the new Archprelate in the Basilica of Chyrellos?’
    ‘I really don’t know that, Sir Sparhawk. Please believeme. You’re probably right, but I can’t really say for certain.’
    ‘We’ll let that one pass for the moment. Now, I have a burning curiosity Just where is Martel right now?’
    ‘He’s gone to Dabour to talk with Arasham. The old man’s trying to whip his followers into a frenzy so that they’ll start burning churches and expropriating church lands. Martel was very upset when he heard about it, and he hurried to Dabour to try to head it off.’
    ‘Probably because it was premature?’
    ‘I’d imagine as much, yes.’
    ‘I guess that’s about all then, Elius,’ Sparhawk said benignly ‘I certainly want to thank you for your cooperation tonight.’
    ‘You’re letting me go?’ the consul asked incredulously.
    ‘No, I’m afraid not. Martel’s an old friend of mine. I want to surprise him when I get to Dabour, so I can’t risk having you get word to him that I’m coming. There’s a penitent’s cell down in the cellar of this monastery. I’m sure you feel very penitent just now, and I want to give you some time to reflect on your sins. The cell is quite comfortable, I’m told. It has a door, four walls, a ceiling and even a floor.’ He looked at the abbot. ‘It does have a floor, doesn’t it, my Lord?’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ the abbot confirmed, ‘a nice cold stone one.’
    ‘You can’t do that!’ Elius protested shrilly.
    ‘Sparhawk,’ Kurik agreed, ‘you really can’t confine a man in a penitent’s cell against his will. It’s a violation of Church law’
    ‘Oh,’ Sparhawk said pettishly, ‘I suppose you’re right. I did want to avoid all the mess. Go ahead and do it the other way, then.’
    ‘Yes, my Lord,’ Kurik said respectfully He drew his dagger. ‘Tell me, my Lord Abbot,’ he said, ‘does your monastery have a graveyard?’
    ‘Yes, rather a nice one, actually.’
    ‘Oh, good. I hate just to drag them out into the open countryside and leave them for the jackals.’ He took hold of the consul’s hair and tipped his head back. Then he set the edge of his dagger against the cringing man’s throat. ‘This won’t take a moment, your Excellency,’ he said professionally.
    ‘My Lord Abbot,’ Elius squealed.
    ‘I’m afraid it’s altogether out of my hands, your Excellency,’ the abbot said with mock piety. ‘The Church Knights have their own laws. I wouldn’t dream of interfering.’
    ‘Please, my Lord Abbot,’ Elius pleaded. ‘Confine me to the penitent’s cell.’
    ‘Do you sincerely repent your sins?’ the abbot asked.
    ‘Yes! Yes! I am heartily ashamed!’
    ‘I am afraid, Sir Sparhawk, that I must intercede on this penitent’s behalf,’ the abbot said. ‘I cannot permit you to kill him until he has made his peace with God.’
    ‘That’s your final decision, my Lord Abbot?’ Sparhawk asked.
    ‘I’m afraid it is, Sir Sparhawk.’ ‘Oh, all right. Let us know as soon as he’s completed his penance. Then we’ll kill him.’ ‘Of course, Sir Sparhawk.’
    After the violently trembling Elius had been taken away by a pair of burly monks, the three men in the room began to